Darling Boy
by flushed puppy 15
Summary: Sherman was always in constant silence, save for the harsh yell of the caretakers. Mr. Peabody was a nice soft buzz that kept him happy and alive. Sherman matters with Peabody around. He's someone with Peabody around. He was loved with Mr. Peabody around.


Silence, the absence of sound, the yawning horror of nothingness, the great big hole with no filling; the orphanage was, (ironically) filled with it. A young boy, no older than seven, was lying in his bed, alone, afraid, and incredibly sad. Downstairs of the old and decrepit, building he had to force himself to call home, adults and parents were adopting the lucky ones. He however, was squishing his face into his pillow waiting for the salty tears to stop pouring. His ginger hair gently flattened into the mattress, and his big brown eyes shielded from the cold, harsh reality of the outside world. After a moment he gathered himself whipped his face with the back of his arm and hopped off his creaky worn-out spring bed. The floor boards were cold to the touch and his naked feet flinched at the coolness. He tiptoed out of his or rather their room. The large spacious void was 'home' too many young boys.

"Sherman, you really need new shoes." The boy said to himself. Sherman as his deceased parents had deemed him was tying his old and worn sneakers and reminded himself to get new ones. Almost all of the things he owned were world beaten and had seen countless things. His large glasses slipped to the edge of his nose. He let out a small growl and pushed them up, crossing his eyes in the process. As he made his way down the cracked, chipped and worn-down stairwell he heard the joyous laughter and chatter of parents and children. He quickly left out the back door and walked down the trash filled ally way. He zipped his jumper up and pulled the hood up over his aching ears. Sherman idly splashed in puddles and wiped his glasses of water droplets. His brown eyes scanned the empty, damp ally way and sighed to himself.

"Well, well, well. Looks like some of the garbage fell out of its can!"

Sherman whipped his head around to face a large behemoth like boy from which the voice emanated. His missing teeth and beady black eyes glared at Sherman from under a ball cap. What happened next was all too predictable. A bloody nose, black eye, and a fractured rib was the result of the beating. As the much larger boy reared his fist for another blow a voice came in.

It wasn't from any of the care takers in the orphanage, Sherman hadn't the slightest who it was. His tear filled eyes and foggy cracked lenses blurred the figure into a white unidentifiable mass. Sherman couldn't hear what the blob was saying as the blood rushed in his ears like title waves on a beach. Sherman closed his eyes afraid that death had finally had him in its palms.

His head lay on a soft plush pillow; Sherman blinked the blurriness away and lifted his aching head off of the plush white fluff filled pillow. He pulled himself up and looked around; he wasn't in the orphanage, not by a long shot. The room was much too nice and the bed was much too big. The silk grey and navy blue sheets stretched down and covered the bed entirely. Sherman looked to the towering window, about the size of the rest of the walls, and found that it was still raining. After a second of contemplating where he was, Sherman crawled out of bed very carefully and was met soft warm carpet. He smiled down and wiggled his toes in the plush fabric.

When he was out of the room he found himself in a hall way, full of trophies and medals. Some photos presented a white beagle with big round glasses and a red bowtie, shaking hands with the president?

How strange, Sherman thought to himself. He continued down the hall until he entered the living room entry way. A sweet warm scent flowed through the air and entered his nose, Sherman's mouth watered and his stomach reminded him that he hadn't eaten all day. He stepped onto the cool, inviting, polished wood floor and walked through the living room to the kitchen. In there he saw the same beagle flipping pan cakes like it was the easiest thing in the world. Sherman stood there and watched him finish and hop down and bring the stack of pancakes to a dining table. The beagle topped them with whipped cream and a strawberry.

"Well now that your breakfast is ready you can come and eat." The beagle said in sort of nasally voice. Sherman flinched and his behind the door way. He had never heard a dog speak before and was fairly surprised at the dog's response. "Oh, don't be afraid my dear boy," the dog began hopping down from the chair he perched on, "I won't hurt you." Sherman cautiously came out from behind the doorway and walked to the stranger. "My name is Mr. Peabody." The beagle said holding his paw out to be shaken. Sherman hesitantly took the outstretched paw.

"Now why don't you eat and after words I'll change your bandages, how does that sound?" Mr. Peabody asked warm green eyes twinkling with wisdom and kindness. Sherman nodded, mumbled a nearly inaudible thank-you and sat down at his plate. He scraped the whipped cream off the top along with the strawberry. Mr. Peabody across the table raised a brow, but said nothing. Sherman ate the tasty morsels with a smile on his face. After he was done with the pan cakes he smothered the strawberry in the white sugary cream and ate it whole. Mr. Peabody chuckled and waved the young boy along.

"Sit down if you will." Mr. Peabody said gesturing to the savvy looking couch. Sherman sat down and watched Mr. Peabody leave the room. When he returned Mr. Peabody he held a medical kit in his paws.

Sherman scratched at the many bandages wrapped around his chest and abdomen. He had gauze secured tightly around his forearm and a bandage over his nose. Mr. Peabody sat down beside Sherman opened the white plastic case in his lap. He brought out medical scissors and gently cut the gauze around Sherman's chest and belly. A new found pain jolted through Sherman's rib cage, he let out a hiss of agitation and held his wound.

"Oh that's a sore spot isn't it?" Mr. Peabody asked quickly patching it up again. The new bandages acted as a cast of some sorts. The aching throb eased at the effort, but dull shadow still lingered. Mr. Peabody took a vile a translucent green liquid and a needle in his other paw sucked up two inches of it.

"Now this is going to ease the pain a little alright?" Mr. Peabody said reaching out for Sherman's arm. Sherman didn't know what that needle was going to inject, but if the dog could make flipping pancakes twenty feat in the air look simple, he could make the pain in his chest go away just as easily. Mr. Peabody stuck the needle deep within Sherman's flesh and injected the medication into his blood system. After he was done changing Sherman's bandages and medicating him, Mr. Peabody helped him off of the couch and back into the guest bedroom.

"If you don't mind me asking, what is your name child?" Peabody asked pulling the covers over Sherman and tucking him in.

"Sherman." He said pulling his arms out from under the comforter and resting them on his belly. Peabody gave a soft smile and ruffled the child's hair. "Well Sherman I'm going to have to take you home soon, where do you live?"

"Hardrock orphanage, it's near Main Street if you look long enough." Peabody's face sunk a bit at that, 'poor boy…' he thought to himself.

"Well in the morning I'll take you there, alright?" he said tucking Sherman in snug and tight.

As time passed Sherman's eyes began to drift off and close, soft sighs escaping his lips. Peabody smiled to himself and turned the lights off before stroking Sherman's hair.

"Oh my, I think I'm starting to fall in love with that darling boy." Peabody said taking the dishes from the table.


End file.
